Cynthia looked over his shoulder, trying to process what she was seeing. What she was being told. Helena begrudgingly gave her credit for not panicking, or flinging out accusations, or storming out of the parlour. Helena had seen affection turn into hatred and love twist into something vicious and hungry. But Cynthia seemed to be trying to make sense of what defied logic.
She refocused on Thomas. ‘When did you discover this?’
Thomas’ cheeks flushed. He was inherently an honest person. It had to wear on him that he had kept such a secret from his sister. ‘At the Duchess of Devon’s house party. When we were investigating Viscount Beachley’s murder.’
‘That was months ago! How did you find out?’
He cleared his throat and glanced at his new wife. An unspoken message passed between them. Or perhaps a memory that Helena refused to steal from their minds. Some things deserved to remain private. Besides, she had no wish to see any scandalous moments between her cousin and Thomas.
‘Clio exposed her… that is to say, she revealed her gifts to me.’
I bet she exposed more than just her magic to you.
Cynthia’s hazel eyes darkened. ‘Why didn’t you tell me then? Do you not trust me?’ She looked from Clio to Thomas, and the heartbreak missing from her response to Hubert’s death was suddenly very apparent.
I will not feel sorry for a wealthy, pampered marchioness whose feelings are hurt because her friend is keeping secrets. Important and incredibly dangerous secrets.
‘I wanted to tell you, Cynthia. I was waiting for the right time, but Alcott seems to have skipped the chapter on when to reveal your magical powers inThe Young Woman’s Guide to Excellence.’ Clio’s weak attempt at humour fell flat.
Cynthia swallowed, her delicate throat constricting as she squared her shoulders. She exhaled slowly before addressing her brother. ‘Thomas. I stood with you when your reputation was in tatters. When the entire beau monde accused you of being the worst kind of rakehell, I went toe to toe with every duchess, viscountess, marchioness, and debutante who dared speak a word against you. You didn’t think I would support you now?’
Lieutenant General Grey dropped his gaze, and Helena found a measure of comfort knowing she wasn’t the only one feeling ashamed. It inspired an alarming sense of empathy for him, and she wasn’t even sure she liked Thomas. ‘I never doubted your loyalty, Cyn. I should have told you.’
‘I asked him to keep my secret until I could share it with you at the right time,’ Clio added. ‘It wasn’t Thomas’ fault. If you need to be angry with someone, be angry with me. I have treasured our friendship, and I was scared I might lose you.’
Helena’s need to protect those she loved rose like a fountain. She dared Cynthia to turn her anger on Clio. Helena would stand in the gap between them and see exactly how fierce the marchioness could be before she would let her hurt Clio. But Cynthia continued to defy Helena’s expectations.
The proper lady pulled Clio into a tight hug. ‘You can never lose me, Clio. I have longed for a sister who would love Thomas the way he deserved. From the moment we met, I knew you were perfect for my brother, and your friendship has been a boon to me. Nothing can change that.’ Sitting back, Cynthia shook her head, her hazel eyes sparkling with wonder. ‘Not even discovering you’re a witch.’ She laughed, a melody of sound inviting everyone in the room to join her. ‘I can’t believe I’m even saying the words. This is nonsensical.’
Cynthia so easily accepting them after knowing the truth of who they really were was impossible. Helena instinctively rejected the idea.
‘I knew I could trust you, Cynthia.’ Clio squeezed Cynthia’s hand before glancing at her cousin.
You are wrong about her, Helena.
Helena rolled her eyes at Clio. ‘Has everyone forgotten we are in the middle of a murder investigation? You might trust her with our secrets – which is lunacy if you ask me – but let’s not forget she is still a suspect in her husband’s murder. This is hardly the time for,’ she flapped her hand between Cynthia and Clio, ‘whatever this is.’
Hamlet’s clicking growl usually encouraged Helena, but he flicked his tail in irritation and when she reached for him, ducked under her hand.
‘This is friendship. Or have you never experienced that with someone outside your family?’
Cynthia’s words cut deeper than Helena expected. Because she was right. Helena didn’t have any friendships outside of Clio, Ellie, and her aunt. She didn’t trust anyone other than her coven. Nor did she need that kind of connection. She didn’twantit regardless of how her heart might ache at seeing such easy familiarity between Clio and Cynthia.
Thomas turned his green gaze on Helena, and she was struck by their similarity of shape to Cynthia’s. He was hard edges and rough lines, while his sister was refined and delicate, but their familial connection was clear. ‘She isnota suspect. Cynthia has done nothing wrong.’
‘We’ve all donesomethingwrong.’ Helena couldn’t stop her gaze from finding Cynthia. She was being swept along a wild river, helpless to pull free. So, she lashed out instead. ‘We’ve all made choices we regret. The question is, what choices have you made with your husband that you regret, Lady Burrows?’
Cynthia squared her shoulders. ‘I have a long list of choices I regret when it comes to Hubert. But killing him is not among them.’
‘Because you don’t regret what you did?’ Triumph and an unexpected rush of disappointment filled her. Had she just gotten the lady to admit her crime? Helena stepped closer as Cynthia stood from the settee.
Everyone on Helena’s periphery disappeared.
Cynthia strode close enough for Helena to notice fine lines spanning from the corners of her eyes that rice powder couldn’t hide. Vanilla and honeysuckle toyed with her senses. Such a sweet and comforting smell from a woman who wreaked havoc on Helena’s internal stability.
‘I don’t regret it because I didn’t do it.’ Enunciating each word through clenched teeth was a skill Cynthia must have learned while training to be a proper lady. ‘Tricking people into saying things that aren’t true, is that your witchy power? Hardly impressive.’ She raised an imperious eyebrow, a feature Helena had never found attractive until now. She had the wild desire to pull her close and taste the salt and sting of her words.
Helena ignored Hamlet’s concerned whine as she shrank the distance between them. Their skirts tangled. ‘Would you like me to impress you, Lady Burrows?’
